The Price of Sky

“Excuse me, how much for a piece of sky?”
“That, sir, would depend on what sort of sky you’re after.”
“How about that idealistic light blue with a couple of tender snow-white clouds?”
“Well, the marked price would have been a pound of curiosity, two yards of imagination and a small bottle of creativity. Add a touch of inspiration and I’d throw in some wings to let your mind soar…”
“I’d like some of that.” He cuts in hastily.
“Sorry, but you see, we’re sold out. Plenty of people are still trying to come up with new formulas but most of that part of the sky has already been bought by the artists and philosophers these past thousands of years.”
“Oh…what about moonlit night?”
“Bright moon, eh? I take three cups of wandering thoughts, two ounces of high quality desire for beauty and a largely poetic dream. However…”
“Yes?”
“Let me put it this way…, I take a certain fierce pride in my moonlit skies. I only sell to people who can write like flowing music, so it won’t go to waste. You seem a little too young for that, if you catch my meaning.”
“I admit I’m not quite there yet, but I’ve been working in that direction! I…”
“I can see that.” The shop owner interrupts. “Maybe in a couple of years. Then again, maybe never.” It is the end of the subject.
“Alright… What about dazzling sun rays on solid sapphire?”
“I’d need a handful of pride, two dozen summers with half a dozen summer frenzies, and a tablespoon each of leadership, motif and obsession added. But to be frank, I wouldn’t give you anything good unless you give me a couple crystal vials of innocence and a child-like heart extra.”
He sighs. ”Never mind then. That kind probably wouldn’t suit me anyway. Too pure. And Stars?”
“Ah! Stars are easy. They’re for rent, though. All you need to do is show me a legend of your own and I’ll turn it into a constellation for free, and the starry night sky is yours. You get to keep it until the moment people forget about you.”
“But I don’t have a legend!”
“A myth, perhaps?”
“No.”
“A brilliant love story, then?”
“Sorry to say, not even that.”
A short pause occurs in which both men are looking for something to say. “…In that case…I don’t think I can help you…” The shop owner concludes, sounding slightly embarrassed.
“What?” He is distressed. “…The dark clouds and endless rain…”
“Not for sale.” The shop owner's voice is deep and sure.
“Why not?”
“They’re just not for sale anymore.”
“But can’t those skies be beautiful too? Why ever did you stop selling?”
“Tragedy.”
Another short silence.
“Then what kind of sky can you give me?”
The shop owner considers. “An unknown, distant and very very personal piece, I guess.”
“How much is it?”
“A lifetime of seeking. But I warn you, it’s a gamble, you don’t always get what you want.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take it.” He sounds suddenly weary.
“Tell you what, it seems to me you’re a little short on time and talent both, aren’t you?”
“And what if I am?”
“I’ll let you pay by installments. A minute of searching each minute for the rest of your life.”
“OK. Sure. Thanks.” He turns and leaves.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Feel free to come again. I’ll keep you posted in case prices change or if anything new comes in.”
There is no reply. The door swings shut with a soft tingle of bells.